


smile for the camera (like you mean it)

by maisy_daisy



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hollywood AU, M/M, Movie Star AU, Not Canon Compliant, fake dating au, in which one stubborn loser pretend to not be falling head over heels for his fake boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:21:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24887512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maisy_daisy/pseuds/maisy_daisy
Summary: Fashion model and rising movie star, Andrew Minyard, doesn't do relationships. Not friendships  and certainly not romance. But when his agent convinces him that faking a relationship with international exy sensation, Kevin Day, will boost his ratings, Andrew figures he's talented enough to try his best.He doesn't have to like Kevin Day. He just needs to do his job and put on the greatest performance of his life.Turns out, it's harder than he expects.
Relationships: Kevin Day/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 14
Kudos: 71





	1. chex mix

**Author's Note:**

> written originally for @ summersminyard on tumblr. backing soundtrack to this fic is oh no! by MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS.

When the news broke out that fashion model and rising movie star, Andrew Minyard, was in a relationship with the Queen of Exy, Kevin Day himself, the tabloids went wild. Every magazine, every entertainment network, every social media tag couldn’t stop talking about the power couple. Everyone and everything with at least two brain cells had an opinion about the relationship.

And no one but Andrew Minyard hated the arrangement more.

“This is ridiculous,” he told his agent over the phone for the seventh time that day. Maybe the eighth. “I don’t need a boyfriend of all people to boost my ratings.”

“Andrew, I understand your frustration,” Renee placated. “But you already signed the contract. Two months, a slew of pictures, a couple interviews—that’s it.”

“That’s it?” Andrew repeated. He slammed the rec room’s freezer door shut and cursed. Out of cookie dough. Of course. “That’s _it_? Well, then. If that’s the case, anything else I can do for you? Maybe write some fucking love letters? Film a porno? Propose to the damn guy? Would that help—“

“Letters would be great,” Renee agreed happily. “That’s a really good idea, Andrew. We can tip off some interviewers and—“

“That. was. sarcasm,” Andrew growled into the phone. “Walker, I want out of this. I can’t take another second of his stupid face.”

“Two months,” Renee said. She sounded patient as ever, but you’d have to have the will of God or something to put up with Andrew Minyard. Actually, God probably wouldn’t suffice. “You can do this Andrew. It’s going so well so far.”

“It’s been _two days_ ,” Andrew groaned. He leaned dramatically against the foos-ball table. “It’s torture, Walker. Torture. He won’t stop talking about his stupid team. I _hate_ exy. And him. Did I mention I don’t like him?”

Renee sounded like she was smiling and he _hated_ that too. “You don’t have to like him, Andrew. You just have to act like you do. Consider this practice for the Netflix role you have.”  
  
“This is ridiculous,” Andrew said again. “Worst idea you’ve ever had. I can fire you, you know.”

“No, you can’t,” Renee corrected. Amused. She sounded _amused_ , for fuck’s sake. “You can try, but _our_ contract has three months left—“  
  
“Fucking _months_ ,” Andrew spat. “Fuck you and fuck this.”

He hit the end call button but not before he heard her bright laugh through the receiver. Cussing again for emphasis, he turned to face his guest who’d been waiting feet away. “What do you want to drink? The fridge is out of soda, before you ask.”

Kevin Day and Andrew’s boyfriend ( _only by contract, only by contrac_ t) stared dumbly at him. God, Andrew hated his stupid face. Stupid, ugly, incredibly hot and adorable when he pouts, face.

“I don’t drink soda,” Kevin said slowly. “Water’s fine. Sorry, did you say my face is ‘stupid’?”

“Aww, you can hear,” Andrew sneered. “Congratulations, is that a new achievement?”

Despite the situation, Kevin laughed. What is so _funny_ to everyone? “If you insist on hating me the whole time, this is going to be interesting.”

Interesting was not the word Andrew would have used. Hell, sure. Painful, yes. Unbearably frustrating, duh. But not _interesting_.

“Water’s in the fridge,” Andrew said. He stormed past Kevin because it looked dramatic and cool and Andrew was always dramatic and cool.

When Kevin laughed again, Andrew saw red.

**

“Is this a test or something?” Andrew asked incredulously as they waited for the hostess to seat them. Palmetto Providence was one of the most expensive restaurants in downtown Los Angeles and he’d be damned if he had to pass the night in this new circle of hell. “We haven’t even sat down yet and you haven’t stopped talking about chexy once.”

“Oh ho ho, _no._ ” Kevin put up his hands in a _wait_ gesture. “I know you know the name. Don’t desecrate the great name of exy.”

“Chexy,” Andrew repeated evilly. “Dexy. Flexy. Sexy—“

The hostess turned back to them at the same moment Kevin slapped a hand over Andrew’s mouth. Andrew’s muffled curse came momentarily until he gave up. He tried licking Kevin’s hand but that didn’t deter him. Only when he managed to twist his chin and bite Kevin’s palm did the taller man let go.

“Ow,” Kevin grimaced. “Rude.”

The hostess blinked uncomfortably. Working at such a high end restaurant had long desensitized her to the celebrity clientele, but behavior like this was less common when they weren’t even drunk.

“Um, if you would follow me to your table, gentlemen.” She didn’t wait for them to agree before she spun on her heel and walked through the maze of tables and booths to their seats. The faster she could get the compressed movie star and gangly drama queen away from her, the better.

She sat them in a back booth with a window view. After the waiter had sat down drinks and taken their order, Kevin tilted his head toward the glass panes.

“Hey, camera. Three o’clock.” He held out his hand, palm up, over the table. “Showtime.”

Andrew stared dumbly at the offered limb. “No.”

Kevin frowned but he didn’t push. Andrew hated that. _Why don’t you push? Why don’t you take what’s not your’s?_

“At least look like you don’t want to kill me,” Kevin suggested with a hopeful glimmer in his eye. “Murder doesn’t make for polite dinner conversation.”

“Says who?” Andrew wondered.

“Most sane people. You can be sane, can’t you?” Kevin teased. He sipped his water and cocked a beautifully trimmed brow at Andrew. “One night, just for me?”

“I’m an actor, dear, not a magician,” Andrew drawled. He took a sip of his own water and wished it were scotch. He very deliberately made sure not to look at Kevin for long. Or Kevin’s stupid, immaculately styled hair. Or Kevin’s stupidly perfect dark skin that had literally no blemishes at all. Or Kevin’s stupidly tailored three piece suit that clung way too perfectly to his stupid shoulders and defined his stupidly hot muscles and—

“Oh my God, are you choking?” Kevin asked and jumped out of his seat. He slid around to the other side of the booth and slapped Andrew’s back once like a mother helping a baby. “Jesus, drink slower or you’ll kill yourself.”

“Ugh,” Andrew coughed. Part of him thought he should edge away from the close proximity but all his instincts screamed _stay_. Weird.

He wiped his watering eyes and ignored the very obvious looks of the other restaurant patrons. “Bold of you to assume that wasn’t my plan.”

Kevin rolled his eyes and offered one last shoulder pat before returning to his own seat. “You’re welcome, is what you meant to say."  
  
“No,” Andrew argued because that was easier than remembering the feel of Kevin’s hand on his back. Or that he wanted to feel that hand again. On him.

 _Oh God, the water poisoned me_ , Andrew thought. _I’m losing my mind._

“What’s wrong?” Kevin asked. His adorably disgusting green eyes narrowed in concern. “Are you not feeling good?”

“I think I lost my appetite,” Andrew muttered. “Looking at you does that to a person.”

Kevin stilled, mouth dropping over. He looked down at the table, an embarrassed flush coloring his cheeks and it didn’t take any extra brain cells to see that Andrew had crossed a line.

Fuck, Andrew _hated_ the expression on Kevin’s perfect face. He hated that he was the one to make Kevin look like that. And he hated the feeling in the first place. He hated that he felt…what? Bad? _Is that what this is? Guilt?_ Ew _._

“Hey, doe,” Andrew said. “I didn’t mean it, alright? That was…Look, I know I’m not visually appealing either so don’t take it personally.”

Kevin swallowed and looked back at him. His eyes were shining and Andrew wanted to scream. _Are you about to cry? Oh God don’t cry Jesus—_

“Doe?” Kevin repeated. His voice cracked, and it was only a second later that Andrew realized it wasn’t hurt making Kevin’s eyes water but barely restrained laughter. “Is that what you just called me? _Doe_?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Andrew said as Kevin lost the war and fell into a fit of laughter. Andrew balled up his linen napkin and threw it at Kevin’s face. _Have fun with_ that _paparazzi._

“Doe,” Kevin wheezed. “Like a fucking deer? Are we doing that now, pet names?”

“One more word, Day. One more,” Andrew threatened, “and I’m pushing you off the nearest cliff I can find.”  
  
“Oh, okay 'Riko Moriyama’,” Kevin teased between laughs, making air quotes around his step-brother’s name. “Doe, oh my God. That’s gold.”

“I hate you,” Andrew said seriously. _And your stupid adorable laugh._

A month and a half left. Andrew didn’t know how he’d survive.


	2. two birds, one stone

“Holy shit, have you seen these?” Kevin asked the next week, airdropping an article to Andrew’s phone.

They were at Barnes and Nobles so Andrew could study his new script Renee had sent him and they could fake a coffee date. _Two birds with one stone,_ Kevin had said.

Except my sanity is on the line, Andrew wanted to say. He virtuously kept his mouth shut, for once.

“Oh, Fuck,” Andrew whispered. Capital F. He didn’t even read the article’s heading, eyes immediately shooting toward the two pictures on the front page for all the world to see. The first was a clear image of Kevin’s arm around Andrew’s shoulder, taken of them at Palmetto’s Providence the week before. It must’ve been when Andrew was choking on his water and Kevin had tried helping him breath.

 _Oh my Fuck, it looks like’s holding me,_ Andrew thought in disgust. _So romantic. Disgusting._

To his horror, the second picture was even worse, if possible. It was taken from a “date” they had two days before. In the image, Andrew’s hand was on Kevin’s elbow and they’re looking at each other with the two biggest smiles on their face. Even worse, Andrew was wearing Kevin’s Warrior’s Jacket, a mistake even he knew he was making in the moment.

Andrew thought he was going to throw up the lemon pound cake he’d eaten a few minutes ago. _Why do we look like that? Why am I smiling at him? Why does he look so happy? Oh God._

But they both remember what put that look on their faces. It was only two days ago and they had been leaving Baskin Robbins. Andrew had let Kevin pay for his double chocolate fudge cookie dough supreme cone while Kevin opted for a sugar free vanilla. By the time they’d left the shop, Andrew was about ready to freeze his ass off in the February chill.

“Here,” Kevin had said, thrusting his team jacket toward Andrew.

“Absolutely not,” Andrew had said at the same time he accepted the material. It was for survival, he told himself. Fifty-nine degrees Fahrenheit can give someone frostbite, he’s pretty sure. Survival, totally.

Kevin’s jacket had smelled just like the exy star and Andrew may or may not have forgotten to give it back when they separated that night. He also may or may not still have that jacket laying on his bed. And he may or may not have slept with the jacket the past two nights.

Survival. Yeah, right.

But the _smiles_ in the picture. That was the real concern.

 _Superstars in Love!_ the caption reads. 

_No!_ Andrew wanted to scream and shake whoever wrote the damn thing. _We were laughing at a man who tripped on the sidewalk! That’s not love!_

“What?” Andrew asks suspiciously when he looked back at Kevin. The striker was still studying the pictures, his sugar free iced coffee forgotten in front of him. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“We look cute,” Kevin said unashamedly. He bit his bottom lip as he took a screenshot of the pictures but Andrew was more distracted by the shape of—

No.

Ab. So. Lute. Ly.

_Not._

Andrew stood up from the table way too violently. The pages of his script went flying onto the floor and Kevin looked up in alarm.  
  
“What’s wrong?”

“I have to go,” Andrew said flatly. His pulse raced and he wished again his heart could just give out and end his misery. “I have…things.”

“Things,” Kevin repeated, voice bland. He nodded his head and even Andrew couldn’t miss the fallen expression tugging at his heart.

Uh uh. Andrew _refused_ to feel guilty over that. It wasn’t his idea to start this stupid fake relationship. He didn’t even _do_ relationships; not friends, not lovers, nada. He didn’t even care about the money he made. It wasn’t his job to make Kevin happy. It wasn’t—

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Andrew stated before he gave himself permission to do so. Damn it. It's not _his_ fault that he has no self-control when it comes to those fucking doe eyes.

“I have practice tomorrow,” Kevin said. But he looked worlds happier now that Andrew had gone and opened his mouth.

Which was so freaking _stupid_. Kevin had _no_ right to look so excited about seeing Andrew again.

 _Doesn’t he realize this is fake?_ Andrew thought to himself. _Do I?_ _Idiot_.

Stupid, handsome, really fucking nice idiot.

Andrew hated him.

“Tuesday, then,” Andrew relented. Ugh, he wanted to be out of that bookstore as fast as his short legs could carry him. Looking at Kevin and his long eyelashes and perfectly proportional nose was basically dangerous for Andrew at this point.

“I have a press conference,” Kevin said as if the fact disappointed him.

“Yeah and I have filming that day, Day,” Andrew huffed. “But you don’t see me making excuses about it.”

“What?”

“I mean, it’s like you don’t want to see me,” Andrew continued. “Which is totally your loss and good luck getting ahold of any more stupid pictures of us if you keep avoiding any plans with me."

Kevin blinked slowly up at Andrew from his seat. “I’m pretty sure _you’re_ the one wanting to avoid me,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Maybe.” Andrew crossed his arms. Hmm. Now he was unsure what they were even arguing about. Were they arguing? This was too confusing.

“Tuesday, then?” Andrew said. “My place. The paparazzi can drool over you walking to my door or something.” Yeah, that sounded good. For the cameras. The press would have a field day when they saw Kevin Day walk into _the_ Andrew Minyard’s home.

Take that Renee.

“Tuesday,” Kevin agreed. He snorted to himself but Andrew decided not to question it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. “Does seven work? I’ll need to grab a shower before I come over.”  
  
“Yeah, whatever.” Andrew picked up his bag to leave when his tongue betrayed him with, “I have a shower at my place.”

“Huh?”

Even Andrew wasn’t talented enough to pretend he didn’t hear the implication of his words. He didn’t _mean_ to imply anything but who the fuck just says ‘I have a shower’ without meaning anything else? Of _course_ he has a shower _everyone_ has a shower _God I’m so fucking stupid_ —

“Andrew, hey,” Kevin said, interrupting Andrew’s internal meltdown. “You okay?”

It was only then that Andrew realized he wasn’t breathing. He took a gulpful of air—surreptitiously, of course, he’s not _that_ lame—and waited for his face to stop looking like a cherry tomato. “Peachy. Just peachy,” he muttered. “So. Tuesday. Seven. Fine.” He turned on his heel and fled.

It wasn’t until after Andrew left that he realized Kevin had still been smiling.

Worse?

Andrew was too.

**

Tuesday couldn’t have gotten there quicker. As Andrew always said, the more you dread, the faster time flies!

By four that afternoon, Andrew was completely ready. The crappiest, most junk food he could find littered every table. Annoying disco tech music played low on a speaker. His cats ran rampant throughout the house, coating everything in at least one layer of hair. Obnoxious, dollar store candles covered every counter.

And then Andrew realized that candles can be seen as _romantic_ and no no no, that just couldn’t do, so he proceeded to throw out all thirty two candles into the trash bin.

“Disgusting,” Andrew said happily at 4:01.

At 4:04, he sat down.

At 4:07, he looked at his watch.

At 4:09, he cracked his knuckles.

At 4:15, he got bored.

At 4:23…

_Ding-Ding._

Dong.

 _Ding-Ding_.

Dong.

“I didn’t do it,” Andrew breathed as he quickly sat up, still half asleep. When he realized the offensive sound wasn’t police sirens but his doorbell ringing, he cursed emphatically.

“No no no no _nononono_ ,” he groaned and stumbled to his feet. But one look at the wall clock and his worst fear was confirmed: 7:00. Right on the dot.

“Oh, shit,” Andrew said again. Passing a mirror on the way to the front entrance, his eyes widened in alarm. Hair? A nightmare. Shirt? Rumpled. Cat hair? Everywhere.

Apparently his foolproof plan wasn’t so foolproof. Betrayed by his own cats.

“You were supposed to cover Doe, not me,” he told Sir harshly.

Sir meowed.

“Oh, fuck you too, bastard.”

_Mee-ow._

“Yeah, yeah, save it for court.”

_Ding-Ding._

Dong.

_Ding-Ding—_

“Coming, goddamnit,” Andrew groaned to himself. Fruitlessly attempting to flatten his hair and smooth out his shirt, he took a deep breath and swung the door open. Slowly. Measuredly. Because desperate and pathetic losers opened doors in a hurry and Andrew was _many_ things, but desperate and pathetic losers was _not_ one of them, thank you very much.

“Day,” Andrew greeted boredly. Smooth.

“Andrew,” Kevin said with his stupid adorable grin. Andrew needed to do something about that soon. He had little over a month left to survive this nonsense and having his heart stutter every time he sees those lips was just not going to do.

“Get inside, you're letting in bugs.” Andrew stepped out of the way to let Kevin in. There were no flies but Andrew heard someone say something like that on TV once so it must be true. He worked in the entertainment industry after all.

“How was your day?” Kevin asked pleasantly as if he and Andrew were _chums_ and not mortal enemies. Well, technically they weren’t mortal enemies, but still. Kevin didn’t comment on Andrew’s obviously disheveled state and Andrew tried not to feel too grateful about that.

“Boring,” Andrew responded as he led Kevin through the house. He doesn’t bother giving a tour because there was no way Kevin would be returning. Nuh uh. This was a one time fluke in Andrew’s routine and the paparazzi better have snapped pictures when Andrew was dawdling because they would not get the opportunity again.

Unless Kevin _did_ come back, and in that case, there would be plenty of more opportunities to show him around. Right? Right.

“Mine was good,” Kevin offered as if Andrew asked. “Press is always tiring, and I got more questions about us than actual exy, but—“ Kevin cut off as he stepped into the main living room. It was a grand space that even Andrew could admit was overdone. But hey, Netflix and walking catwalks for conceited companies paid well. “Wow. This is…”

“Whatever,” Andrew interrupted. In truth, he was pretty embarrassed about the lavish space that was twelve times too big for just he and the cats. But Kevin didn’t need to know that. Besides, Kevin probably made double what he did with his season’s contract, so Andrew’s place was probably child’s play compared to Kevin’s.

_I wonder what his house looks like._

Wait. No I don’t.

_Of course I do. Just for curiosity’s sake, though. That’s it._

Right.

Andrew crossed his arms and leaned against one of the dark blue couches. “So.”

“So,” Kevin repeated. His eyes trailed over the furniture and landed on a crumpled form. “Oh, hey. Is that my jacket?”

Andrew narrowed his eyes and looked to where Kevin was pointing. Shit, he’d fallen asleep on the Warrior’s jacket. He didn’t want to give it back but he moved to go retrieve it, anyway.  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Kevin said with a dismissive wave. “Might as well keep it.”

Andrew paused and squinted at Kevin suspiciously. He ignored the happy jump in his heart. “Why…?”

Kevin sighed and gestured vaguely in a way Andrew couldn’t translate. “I don’t know, ‘Drew. Just accept the jacket.”

“Did you just call me ‘Drew?”

“Congratulations, you can hear.” Kevin clapped sarcastically and Andrew gaped at the mimicry of their conversations weeks back.

“Shut up, Doe,” Andrew grumbled.

Kevin grinned at him and Andrew wondered if kissing him would wipe that stupid smile away. It would do them both good.

 _To what?_ His inner voice demanded. _Good to kiss him or take that smile away?_

 _Two birds with one stone,_ he answered.

His train of thought was interrupted when Kevin moved to shrug out of the current jacket he was wearing.

_Oh my God does he have to wear a short sleeved shirt? It’s fucking forty degrees out he should be wearing long sleeves. Not showing off those stupid muscles and—_

_He’s smiling at me._

_Why is he smiling at me like that?_

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” Andrew demanded. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion and brought a hand to his head. “Fuck, is it my hair? I thought I fixed it.”

“What? No, not that.” Kevin shook his head and took a step forward to lay his jacket over the couch back. The movement brought him way too close to Andrew, Kevin’s shoulder brushing against Andrew’s own, and Andrew quickly stepped out of the way like he’d been shocked.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” Kevin breathed. He took his own step back, eyes raking over Andrew in concern. “What’d I do wrong?”

 _You fucking existed,_ Andrew wanted to spit at him.

But it was worse than that. Kevin not only existed but he fucking _asked_ what he did wrong. Not, “What’s wrong? or ‘Are you okay?’ but “What did _I_ do wrong?”

And goddamnit that’s the worst because that means he actually _cares_ and—

“Ask first,” Andrew managed to say much less smoothly than he liked. But he couldn’t bring himself to care as much. “When you get close to me.”

He doesn’t explain more than that and Kevin— _goddamn him_ —accepts it at face value. He didn’t demand to know why or say that’s weird. He just nodded his head seriously as if what Andrew said mattered.

 _No one ever accepts that,_ Andrew wanted to scream at him. _Why are you different?_

“Andrew, may I get close to you?” Kevin asked and Andrew considered throwing him out the door that second because _why are you so serious why do you care why are different than the rest—?_

“Yes,” Andrew said despite himself. He thought he said it, at least. He could feel the vibration in his throat but he couldn’t really hear himself as Kevin stepped closer, too focused on the movement of Kevin’s feet and his own traitorous, beating heart.

Kevin didn’t touch him. Not at first. Instead, he said, “Andrew, why did you really invite me here?”

That wasn’t what Andrew expected either. “What?”

“There were no paparazzi outside,” Kevin said patiently. “I didn’t even know you lived in this neighborhood until you texted the address. Why did you really invite me here if not for the public’s knowledge?”

“I…” there really was no out of this, was there? Andrew was a rising actor but he didn’t have the experience to fool himself any longer. “I wanted you to be wrong.”

“Wrong?” Kevin murmured. He raised a hand as if to touch Andrew and Andrew had no intentions of stopping him but he let it fall down at the last second. “What does that mean?”

Andrew didn’t know why they were whispering in the large house and though part of him knew it was ridiculous, he couldn’t bring himself to raise his voice.

“Everyone’s always wrong,” Andrew said quietly. “And they always think they’re correct.”

They always think they can take and take and _take_ and still be right.

“But not you. You didn’t _take_ ,” Andrew shuddered the last word out and raised his arm and

thank

fucking

God

Kevin finally took his hand gently in his and Andrew could break away if he wanted to but he _didn’t_ , no that was the last thing he wanted—

“Is this okay?” Kevin asked like the answer mattered.

Because the answer did matter and he was the first person to recognize that.

Andrew hated him so much.

Andrew couldn’t be more grateful.

“Yes,” Andrew answered because the answer. did. matter. and maybe he wouldn’t have to settle for less.

“This isn’t supposed to be real,” Andrew whispered more to himself than Kevin.

“I’m not sure that it ever wasn’t,” Kevin murmured and Andrew couldn’t take it anymore he _needed_ Kevin to stop talking and just fucking—

When Kevin leaned down to kiss him, Andrew thought, _Finally_. But Kevin paused a moment before the fall. Dangling over that cliff, that damned, glorious precipice, he waited for the word. The one, broken word that Andrew couldn’t keep inside any longer.

“Yes,” he breathed out and Kevin’s lips found his and _damn_ the nonexistent paparazzi because _you can’t have this,_ _you can’t take this from me you can’t get your dirty hands on this man and me._

“Still hate me?” Kevin asked against Andrew’s lips when they pulled apart for air. Andrew just growled and pulled Kevin’s collar down, lips finding lips finding tongue finding—

“ _Yes_ ,” Andrew said again and Kevin only smiled.

Damn it.

**

Bonus:

“Here, I’ll throw this away,” Kevin offered as he picked up his and Andrew’s paper plates later that night. Andrew leaned back into the couch, thoughts stuck on the other man who he thought he hated but didn’t really. It was just a convenient scapegoat to explain the feelings he didn’t want to admit. And Kevin’s kissing skills didn’t help matters.

Of course the Queen of Exy could kiss like he was royal shit or something. Of _course._

“Oh, damn,” Kevin called out from the pantry. “What’d you do?”

“What?” Andrew called back.

“You rob a candle store or something?”

Andrew hung his face in his hands and groaned.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! scream at me on tumblr at @ ravens-play-exy-too


End file.
